


Pikelets

by Warp5Complex_Archivist



Category: Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-03-05
Updated: 2006-03-05
Packaged: 2018-08-15 23:36:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8077768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Warp5Complex_Archivist/pseuds/Warp5Complex_Archivist
Summary: Malcolm. Hoshi. Hotplate. (07/10/2003)





	

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Kylie Lee, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Warp 5 Complex](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Warp_5_Complex), the software of which ceased to be maintained and created a security hazard. To make future maintenance and archive growth easier, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2016. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but I may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Warp 5 Complex collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/Warp5Complex).

  
Author's notes: Spoilers, 1.12 "Silent Enemy."  
  
No real plot, just some interactions between characters. Pikelets, for those who don't already know, are sort of like small, thick pancakes.  
  
Huge thanks to DINY for the lovely beta and touch up. You're a gem!  


* * *

Hoshi rubbed her face tiredly and glanced at the chronometer. 01:13 hours. She had been trying to fix a glitch in the UT since this late this morning.

Late last morning, she amended mentally. She had gone over the whole system twice already til algorithms were coming out of her ears, but she still couldn't figure out what was causing the problem. It was just so damn frustrating. Hoshi was tempted to throw her padd across her quarters, but settled for dumping it unceremoniously on her desk.

I need a break. Gain a new perspective on this thing.

* * *

Malcolm paused in mid-stride as a deliciously sweet aroma filled his nose. His brow furrowed in a slight frown. Mess hall was one level down, so unless there was a problem with the ship's oxygen recycling system the scent would have to be coming from this level. Never one to leave a mystery unsolved when his curiosity was peaked, Malcolm followed his nose to where the smell was strongest.

Hoshi's cabin, Malcolm thought as he noticed the number printed to the left of the door. A loud curse, followed by a muted thud could be heard from behind the walls.

Alarmed, Malcolm pushed the buzzer, "Hoshi? You alright in there?"

Coughing could be heard from the other side. Malcolm quickly punched his override code into the keypad and stepped into her quarters, only to be enveloped in a cloud of white. He waved his hand in front of him to clear the air.

"Hoshi?"

When he finally saw her, he had to bite his bottom lip to keep from laughing. White dust covered her clothing and blanched patches of her silky black hair. A good portion of the floor surrounding her was dusted with the white powder, marking a mini fallout area. She sneezed, shaking dust loose from her hair and shoulders and sending it into the air again. Malcolm couldn't hold back a low chuckle at the sight.

"Shut up!" Hoshi tried to glare at him, but he merely grinned back.

"What is all this?" he asked, glancing around at the mess.

"Flour." At Malcolm's quizzical look, Hoshi sighed and began to dust herself off.

"When I'm stressed I cook." She gestured to the hot plate propped up on her table.

"This is how you cook? I can see why Chef never lets you anywhere near his kitchen."

Hoshi rolled her eyes, "I burned my thumb on the hotplate then I knocked over the flour."

Malcolm was immediately contrite and gave her a concerned look, "Here, let me see."

He gently took her hand and examined her injured thumb. It was red and slightly swollen. "Doesn't look to bad. Better put some burn gel on it, though."

Hoshi nodded, "I've got some in the drawer."

Malcolm retrieved it then began to tenderly apply the cool salve to her wound. She marvelled at how gentle he was, but winced slightly when he touched a particularly sensitive part.

He grimaced in sympathy, "Sorry."

Hoshi smiled up at him teasingly as he finished up, "Thanks, Doctor Reed."

"It was my pleasure."

She glanced down at her injured hand, still cradled within his larger ones and Malcolm couldn't help but smile at the charmingly comical sight of her lowered eyelashes lightly dusted with flour.

Hoshi looked up to see him gazing at her, "Umm, Malcolm?"

"Yes?"

"You can let go of my hand now."

"What?" He started a little and his eyes widened marginally in realisation, "Oh yes...of course." He dropped her hand and took a step back, clearing his throat.

Hoshi resisted the urge to smile at his sudden awkwardness. She didn't think she would ever figure him out. One minute he was teasing her, the next he was being incredibly sweet, and now he was standing uncomfortably in front of her.  
Such a change from his usual seriousness, she thought. The more she got to know Malcolm Reed, the more she was intrigued by him and the more she wanted to find out.

His voice interrupted her thoughts, "So...what were you cooking before? I could smell it from the corridor."

"Stewed apple and pikelets. Comfort food."

"Comfort food?"

Hoshi shrugged a little, "Most girls go for chocolate or ice cream. I'm more of a stewed apple and pikelet girl myself. My mother used to make them for me as a midnight snack when I was up late, cramming for some exam. Reminds me of home." She smiled a little wistfully.

Malcolm nodded understandingly. "I never thanked you properly. For the trouble you went through for my birthday. You didn't have to..."

"Captain's orders. Besides," Hoshi gave him a shy smile that was slightly lopsided, "I wanted to."

He returned her crooked smile with one of his own. A short, comfortable silence fell between them as they stood facing each other; Hoshi cradling her right hand in her left, her injured thumb sticking out and Malcolm holding the salve jar between balm moistened fingers. He turned abruptly, setting the jar on the desk and breaking the peaceful moment. Hoshi blinked, suddenly remembering she was standing in the midst of a very floury cabin.

"I should start clearing up." She picked up a batter covered spoon and a sticky mixing bowl.

"Well...ahm...why don't I give you a hand cleaning this mess up and you can tell me why you need...comfort," Malcolm grimaced inwardly at his choice of words, but they were out of his mouth before he could stop them.

Hoshi raised her eyebrows and her eyes glinted with mischief, but she just smiled and handed him the sticky dishes before she reached for the Starfleet issue dust remover.


End file.
